


They Had Each Other, Too

by hazzahandsome



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazzahandsome/pseuds/hazzahandsome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn loved kissing Harry. Loved it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Had Each Other, Too

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, yes, hello. I've decided to post some of my works here, because this is where most people read nowadays. So, here we are.

Zayn loved kissing Harry. Loved it.

He would of been shocked if anybody who had gotten the opportunity had walked away spewing, “Yeah, that was alright. Nothing to write home about." That _wasn’t even_ a possibility.

_Just look at him._

Harry had a lot of amazing features that girls all across the world noticed and admired. He was tall and lanky, a trait that on anybody else would inspire teasing and jolly jest. But, _not_ on Harry.

It suited _him_ perfectly and _could be_ considered the foundation to everything that people were attracted to. His height affected the way he stood - pigeon toed feet sprawled out in various directions and hands placed securely in the front pockets of his jeans - almost acting as an anchor. He towered over most people, so when he would hug them his head could rest atop theirs, instead of placed in the crook of their neck. An action reserved for those he most cared about.

Sometimes Harry would stand behind his back, arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers pulling lightly at the collar of his shirt, and let his head rest there for awhile. At least until another person started to come into whatever room they currently resided.

Then he would pull away.

Harry had _so many_ other things about him that unintentionally drew people in. Like his _hands_ , that were large and strong, and _rough_ with calluses from recently taking lessons from Niall on how to play the guitar, and yet were delicate and feathery whenever they fluttered across his skin. He had a collection of traits carefully practiced and perfected - all making use of the long fingers and wide palm.

Like holding his hand - and other things not quite as innocent, but their hands clasped tightly together as if they were each other’s lifelines was the first thing Zayn thought of.

Harry’s hands had many other gifts, as well. His skin was a unique blend of textures that could take Zayn on countless different journeys. Some of which were slow and careful. Expeditions that showed how much he _truly_ cared, even though it wasn’t something that was able to be shown in a public forum. _Other’s_ which demonstrated the burning affection and passion Harry had for him - which tended to overwhelm him gradually throughout the day during their many interviews and responsibilities and _flared_ whenever them and the rest of the boys were asked ‘who had a girlfriend’ and Zayn would raise his hand with the others.

Zayn had Perrie. _Zayn had Perrie_.

They tried on a regular basis to remember that, but recently had been finding that it didn’t matter much to them… But it did. Which was all so hard to explain.

Harry didn’t want to be misunderstood. He liked Perrie. She was sweet and kind and beautiful. Definitely a fun girl to be around. Zayn liked Perrie, too - and thought all of the same things about her as the other boys. She was a good match for him. She was fun and talented, and looked good on Zayn’s arm.

But so did Harry.

_They had each other, too._ It’s just that nobody got to see it.

Harry’s hair was another amazing thing about him and Zayn would often find himself staring at it during the day. And touching it. Which wasn’t weird.

One Direction always touched and caressed each other lovingly in public - something that they had all started to become quite known for. So, he didn’t fret over the action _too_ much.

A girl would madly scream from the crowd of wherever they were _desperately_ wanting to know what it felt like to the touch - and Zayn would smile slightly to himself immersing briefly into memories of laying secretly in hotel beds all around the globe - watching something he would never remember (and sometimes couldn’t understand, because of the language) on the telly, Harry curled up with him, and stroking his fingers leisurely through the famous curls.

Other times he would _smirk_ , recalling memories of when his fingers roughly latched themselves into the chestnut spirals while Harry was on his knees in front of him - an act he regularly reciprocated.

His eyes.

Harry had the most radiant eyes Zayn had ever caught sight of - and every time those green orbs connected with his he had to remember to breathe. They reminded him of a storm, though that was a comparison normally reserved for eyes that were a foggy blue. _Harry’s_ eyes looked like the sky before a tornado, and he adored them.

Harry had this capability of staring, boring into somebody - an act that made most feel excruciatingly wearisome. His eyebrows scrunched down together, and his eyes sparkled analytically - trying to figure somebody out - wanting to understand them.

Zayn would be lying if he said the the gaze never put him on edge, but that wasn’t the normal. He was _content_ around Harry, and Harry was content around him. He did, however, feel exposed under Harry’s stare - like there was absolutely no way that he _couldn’t_ be himself. Haz would always be able to spot the deception a mile away. He always knew when Zayn was upset.

It was a good thing.

Zayn liked Harry’s ears, because barely anybody, outside of those who actually were close to him, ever got to see them. They were always hidden under his mop of curls. And, yes, he knew that seemed like a selfish and stupid reason for liking them. Other than that, however, Haz’s ears were a playground for Zayn, and vise versa.

It didn’t matter where they were or what they were doing - they could both at any time reach over to the other and say anything they wanted, and nobody would know. All of the boys would be on stage, Zayn just finishing a solo, when Harry would saunter over - his dress shirt rising slightly from his side offering him a tantalizing view of Harry’s hip bone (not that he had much to speak of). His body would graze lightly across his and he would bring his mouth close to Harry’s ear - cheeks brushing. “You really need to stop doing that."

Harry would pull back with a small smile placed upon his face and mouth, “I don’t know what you’re talking about." And they would continue with the show. Maybe ten minutes later Zayn would be sitting on the arm of the couch, and the same undeniable presence would engulf him from behind, and lean down to whisper in _his_ ear, “Can I come to your room tonight?" he might ask, even though he would know that he doesn’t need to.

Zayn always responded with a, hopefully, calm ‘yes’ - even though he _wasn’t_ and he definitely could tell Harry was very aware that he could make Zayn lose his mind when his warm breathe hit his neck. The _idea_ of spending alone time with Harry was enough to make him sweat.

All of these things, however, paled in comparison to _kissing_ Harry.

Harry had the best lips that Zayn had ever kissed and they had a wide variety of skills. He loved the way the felt against his fingers as he pulled Harry’s neck closer towards him - thumb rubbing over the swell of his bottom lip, which natural pink reddened from the mutual pressure. He was fascinated at how they looked while belting into a microphone, _and_ he _loved_ the way Harry’s lips looked as they slid down his hard cock. But kissing him was something entirely different.

Harry loved to kiss Zayn just as much as Zayn loved to kiss Harry, which was oportune for him. He’d lie on top of Zayn after sneaking down the hotel hallway into his room, and cradle himself in between his slightly spread legs, gently grinding his hips against Zayn’s. His lips always felt somewhat wet while they glided along in tiny precise motions.

Harry was incredible at it - he made everybody feel good, and Zayn was aware that it was because he had had an awful amount of practice.

Harry would smile when he rolled them over, so that Harry was beneath him - shirt abandoned long ago and Zayn would attack his collarbones, kissing and nipping here and there. Loving him everywhere he could. That was until Harry would get impatient and go to do the same to him, before sharply pulling back.

_They weren’t dating_. Zayn was not Harry’s boyfriend. Harry was not Zayn’s boyfriend.

_Zayn had Perrie. No visible marks to Zayn’s body were allowed._

So instead Harry, to distract himself from what was _absolutely not_ depression over the situation, would move onto other parts of his body frustrated that he couldn’t worship every inch at once - and show Zayn how good he could be for him. How happy he could make him - if he ever _truly_ got the chance. He would keep kissing all of the spots that he had learned set Zayn off and got him hard up for him.

He would kiss his way up Zayn’s body, paying extra close attention to a few sweet spots on his jaw line, once again careful to not mark him, before coming back to his lips.

_Harry was so good at it._

Running his tongue along Zayn’s bottom lip. Sliding his tongue along Zayn’s. Feeling slippery and wet and awesome. Getting passionate, hearts racing - the beat seemingly filling the room. Getting sweaty.

And then gazing into his eyes and smiling. But despite how perfect everything was and how mind blowing Harry’s lips worked against his own - Zayn could always see a sadness in his eyes. Harry would always try to imply that he wasn’t hurt. That he _loved_ him, but he didn’t _love_ him, so everything was fine. But, Zayn knew otherwise, _because he loved Harry, too_.

Even though Zayn had Perrie, they still wanted to have each other - so they lied and acted like everything would be okay, even though they knew it wouldn’t. They knew it wouldn’t.

So, instead Zayn continued to love kissing Harry - and Harry continued to allow it.

_Everything would be fine_.


End file.
